The Union (4 page)

Patterson's eyes lit up. "Is that what McParland said?" He laughed. "I'm holding my own so far. No one's been able to gather any irrefutable evidence against me yet."

"Still, it sounds like McCullough and Allison shouldn't become good friends."

Patterson nodded. "Isn't that the point of redundancy? Two operatives, one goes down, the other covers. No, I'd say for safety's sake you have to separate yourself from me. And you'd better mail your own reports. The union men are getting suspicious of my evening walks to the post office in Wallace. And they aren't aware of over half the trips I've made."

"You walk to Wallace? No wonder you're so damned thin. That's got to be close to four miles." Dietz shifted in the saddle. "What about the post office in Gem?"

"No good. Samuels, the fellow with the store next door to you, runs the Gem post office from his store. He's a rabid union man."

"But he won't be suspecting McCullough of treason against the union."

"He reads all the outgoing mail. And his deputy postmaster, Big Frank, is also a member of the Gem Union." Patterson spoke matter-of-factly.

"So what do I do?"

"You'll figure something out."

"What about maintaining contact with you?"

"Nothing on a regular basis. We don't want to arouse any suspicion. We'll have to trust fate to give us opportunities as we need them. If you must leave me a message, you can trust Mrs. Shipley with a note. She and that five-year-old boy of hers are salt-of-the-earth people."

"She knows about you?"

"Hasn't a clue."

Dietz nodded. They rounded a bend and the narrow town of Burke came into view. "What the hell? Will you look at that one street town."
 

Burke was built not so much in a valley as in a crevice between the mountains that allowed for only one street's width. Because the mining town relied heavily on the railroad to ship its lifeblood, galena, silver ore, the tracks and the street shared the same space.
 

Dietz stared at it in amazement. "What do they do when the train comes through?"

"Businesses fold up their awnings so they don't catch fire or get scraped off." Patterson laughed, then slowed his horse to a near stop. "I ought to warn you. This isn't any common business meeting we're going to. They're going to use this meeting to plan their next act of violence. What that will be, only the bosses know right now. I haven't even been privy to it. Most likely they'll vote on which scab to beat up next, or who to run off. And they'll take care of it tonight. It won't be pretty."

"You don't need to warn me. Coming over the Bitterroot Range I ran into a scab family the union ran off. The fellow was in bad shape, beat up bad, and the wife and this little kid were starving. I gave them food and money, and help back to within miles of Thompson's Falls."

Patterson gave him a serious look. "I hope no one finds out about it. Wouldn't look good for McCullough."

"Wasn't McCullough who helped them. It was Peter Sullivan." Dietz expected Patterson to chuckle, but he didn't.

"Don't get any noble notions here, Dietz. Last fall, shortly after I came, I saw as fine a specimen of Irish manhood as God makes. Looked a lot like you—jet black hair, intelligent eyes, a mustache—real easy for the ladies to look at. He spoke up at a meeting, and condemned the violent approach, advocating negotiation. After the meeting, the leaders sat down on him so hard he couldn't get his jaws working all winter. There was even talk of branding him a 'scab.' He hasn't said a word since.

"These men aren't interested in solving the differences between them and the owners. They just like to fight. Of course, they'll tell you different. They'll talk the talk. Fair wages for all. But does it make any sense for muckers and common roustabouts to receive three-fifty a day in wages, the same as skilled miners?"

Dietz didn't get a chance to answer. Maybe the question was rhetorical anyway. Patterson was already looking ahead toward town.
 

"Looks like the bosses are starting to gather." Patterson pointed toward something in the distance. "I recognize Brown from here." He clucked to his horse. "Let's be going. We don't want to be late." He laughed. "Oh, and Dietz, if they deem you worthy of membership, cross your fingers when they give you the Molly Maguire oath and make you swear loyalty to the union on penalty of death."

Patterson moved out, with Dietz right behind him. "Won't have to, Charlie. McCullough took the Molly Maguire oath years ago. He was practically baptized with it."

Chapter 3

Dietz and Patterson met up with Judge Brown in the street outside the meeting hall.

"Judge Brown." Patterson sounded friendly, though Dietz knew he despised the judge.

"Allison, who've you brought?" The judge's gruff manner matched his overall appearance.
 

What a pompous, egotistical bastard
. Dietz disliked him immediately but smiled at him just the same.

As the judge stared at Dietz, not a hint of a smile broke his lips. His eyes reflected nothing but darkness.

"Let me introduce you to Ian McCullough," Patterson continued. "From Pennsylvania. Of union activist fame. Keely Byrne asked me to make introductions."

Judge Brown grunted. "Friend of her dead brother. Byrne always spoke highly of him." The judge squinted at Dietz, studying him at length. "Younger looking than Byrne described you but similar enough." He grunted again. "Can't be too careful. Waters hired you to do some work for us?"
 

Dietz nodded.

Brown waved a dismissive hand at Dietz. "Come on in. You can stay."

The meeting room filled quickly. Patterson made all the necessary introductions. Dietz had read Patterson's reports. From them he knew how the union operated and recognized many names. Each town, or mining camp, had its own union. All the local unions elected delegates to represent them in the Central Union. Tim O'Brien was president, and Joe Poynton, secretary, of the Central Union. Both were present, as well as Sam Waters, president of the Gem Union, and of course, Judge Brown and Patterson.

Patterson, as Allison, pulled out a pad of paper and a pen and prepared to take minutes. The Burke Union president called the meeting to order, but the judge quickly took over.

"Gentlemen, we're here to discuss our next course of action against the owners. Our men have been out of work far too long, and the owners refuse to capitulate or negotiate. We must act, in the interest of our men, before they lose heart, before they face any more deprivation. We have men leaving the Valley, going off to seek temporary work elsewhere so that they can feed their families.

"Gentlemen, can we afford to let our men go another month without wages?"

A hearty round of no's sounded around the room. Brown's eyes sparkled with passion, or love of evil, Dietz couldn't decide which, and his voice shook with emotion. All apparently genuine. And terribly dangerous. Dietz stared at him with the same rapt attention the others gave, not daring to look any less interested.

"What do you suggest, George?" O'Brien asked.

The judge seemed to tremble with excitement. "We all know the owners won't act without a little prodding, some small incident to show we mean business." Giddy, that was how the judge looked.

"The boys still want blood for that first load of scabs that sneaked past us to the Gem mine. I say it's time we let them have it. Those scabs are trapped up at the mine without supplies—"

"Are you saying we hold up the supply train, George?" Poynton asked.

"I don't see how we can get around the law to do that just now, Joe. It's one thing to have a phony warrant written out to arrest the train engineer for transporting illegal workers, but what reason can we give to hold up cargo? We aren't that desperate—yet. What I had in mind is a little more personal."
 

Brown outlined his plan to beat up a scab laborer from the Gem Mine. Petty stuff. Nothing worth reporting or risking his life for, Dietz thought. Boring. Dietz yawned. McCullough would have been asleep at such small stuff ten minutes ago. Maybe an eruption wasn't as close as Patterson thought.

The private meeting adjourned. President O'Brien sent the bell ringers out ahead to Gem to signal a meeting of the general assembly so that they could present their plan to beat up a man.

Back in Gem, anger, palpable and impatient, pulsed through the general assembly. Bleak, weary frustration painted the faces of a hundred idle miners with too much time to think and too little sense to do so critically. That was Dietz's impression as he strode out of the assembly hall into the street joining
 
the crowd that wove toward O'Malley's Tavern.

Scruffy beards, faded denim pants, weathered skin, work shirts. The description fit almost every man within sight. When had things become desperate? What had driven these men to mob mentality, to trust violence to solve their problems?

Judge Brown had outlined his plan to the general membership. Dietz prayed that the targeted scab, Jake Waller, had the good sense to stay up at the mine. But he doubted Brown would allow a quirk of fate, or human fickleness, to rob him of his glory. Nothing was said, but Dietz got the impression that Jake would be where he was expected tonight.

Before dismissing the crowd, Brown had introduced Dietz.

"McCullough is an expert in union management negotiations. He'll be advising your leadership on strategies that have proven useful back East."
 

Yeah, strategies
. Terrorism more like. Dietz had bowed to the crowd and taken his seat again.
 

Then Brown had looked pointedly at his watch. "Men, the hour is upon us." He nodded and spread his arms and the crowd had parted, forming an aisle. The judge walked through with Dietz and the others trailing him. As soon as they broke through the door and out into the dusk, the aisle collapsed as the masses pressed in behind them. Now they weaved to the back of O'Malley's three abreast, circling to the back and arcing around the door.

"How's it feel to have a front row seat, McCullough? Bet you haven't had this much fun in quite a while." Before Dietz could answer, Brown yelled out a command. "O'Malley, send him out."

How long had Waller been held prisoner? This was no last minute, spur of the moment act.

The back door to the bar opened. The stout bartender thrust a terrified man out into the mud, into the center of the arc of men surrounding him.
 

Premeditated, the whole damn thing planned well in advance.

"Look, boys." Jake's voice trembled. "I just came down for a drink. I didn't mean any harm."

"Thief!" someone yelled.
 

"Damned scab!" A torrent of insults and obscenities followed as the crowd collapsed onto the man. Lunn Gaffney threw the first punch. With it came the sickening crack of knuckles hitting flesh. Jake Waller staggered. The crowd laughed.
 

As Dietz watched, sickened, Gaffney grabbed the man and pinned his arms back. "When's the next load of cussed scabs due in?"

Waller trembled and shook his head. "Don't know."

Gaffney wrenched Waller's arm. Waller groaned. "I don't know. I don't."

"Who's next?" Gaffney yelled.
 

The men didn't bother forming a line. What did Dietz expect, gentlemen? They punched and kicked and spit on Jake as many at a time as they could get to him, repeating their question and retaliating when they got no response.
 

"Care for a turn, McCullough?" Brown spoke to him.

"Not my style," Dietz said, trying to sound insulted. Didn't Brown realize that participating in a small time beating was well beneath McCullough? "Let the men have their fun."

In mere minutes, Jake no longer looked human. His features became unrecognizable beneath the swelling and blood. He passed out. Gaffney, heavily muscled and strong, staggered under his dead weight, and at last dropped him face down into a puddle. The battle seemed lost. Waller wouldn't be talking now. Dietz watched Waller's blood color the water, mingling with it like red rain. In a minute, he'd drown.

"Get a rope!" someone shouted. "If he won't talk, we'll string him up as an example!"

Cheers echoed off the building. Patterson made no move to help. Dietz couldn't stand it any longer. He wasn't paid to watch innocent men die. He stepped to the center of the half circle and opened his mouth to shout.
 

"Enough!"
 

But it wasn't Dietz's voice that silenced the crowd. Keely Byrne came flying around the corner of the building, her hair loose and blowing wildly about her face, her green eyes flashing. In that instant, their gazes locked. Something ephemeral but powerful passed between them. An intimacy so deep and unexpected it caught Dietz off guard and shattered his senses. For a brief moment it was just the two of them—Keely and him. Both on the same side, and wildly opposed to each other.

Fear for her safety, mingled with admiration for her courage, pumped through him, hammering at his heart, surprising him.
Damn that woman for coming out into this crowd!

The men around Keely looked startled by her appearance. Dietz saw them only peripherally. Without unlocking his gaze from hers, Dietz used his foot to push Waller over onto his back.